


Sing Your Own Song

by Zombubble



Series: Tumblr Drabbles and Prompts [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Viktor Nikiforov - Freeform, but - Freeform, but at least you know how bad you did, depressed viktor, long-haired viktor, the birth of the legend, yakov you fucked up, young Viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 10:12:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombubble/pseuds/Zombubble
Summary: Yakov understands, now, what people mean when they say destruction can lead to rebirth.





	Sing Your Own Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isis_Nocturne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis_Nocturne/gifts).



Yakov decides enough is enough when Vitya skates onto the ice dressed as that infernal cartoon character to do the most ridiculous dance he’s ever seen for an exhibition. It’s Vitya’s first season in seniors, and he’s on top of the world.

 

The next season, Yakov begs and cajoles Vitya, bribing him into doing as he says for just _one_ season. Just the one, in hopes that Vitya will realize all this rebelling would only ever hold him down. After hours of this, Vitya agrees quietly as Lilia glares from the background.

“Are you trying to break him, Yakov?” She asks that night, voice full of sharp edges honed with anger.

“I am trying to teach him.”

Lilia huffs as she walks away, closing the door to her own bedroom unnecessarily loudly. Vitya, in the kitchen making hot chocolate, winces, hiding his face behind his hair as he passes Yakov. He sneaks into his room, and Yakov doesn’t see his expression as he closes the door behind Makkachin.

He doesn’t see Vitya for dinner, either.

 

The next day, Vitya’s at the rink bright and early, a smile on his face as he does the drills barked at him. After the first week, Yakov feels good about the upcoming season. Vitya hasn’t argued about the music, hasn’t fought the costume designs Yakov has in mind. He runs jumps cheerfully, and doesn’t complain.

Yakov takes compliance as respectful obedience, and he pushes ever harder. Vitya soldiers through, and everything is going fine.

Until it isn’t.

Vitya’s first competition of the season, he takes fifth. The one after that, third thanks to a horrible free skate by one of his competitors.

He doesn’t make the grand prix finals.

Yakov starts noticing hushed whispers coming from Vitya’s room, choked sounds in the solitude of the night when he thinks no one can hear him. Bags darken to purple under his eyes, his face grows gaunt, but nevertheless, Yakov pushes further. He’s close to a breakthrough, he knows it.

A month before Russian Nationals, Lilia takes Yakov aside, grabbing him harshly by the arm and nearly flinging him into his office.

“Are you trying to break that boy?!” She yells again.

“I’m bringing out his true potential,” Yakov insists.

Lilia scoffs, and Yakov walks out of there knowing he’s right. Vitya is tired, exhausted from training, but every morning he shows up with a smile. Every day he pushes himself until he can’t. He’s learning. Success doesn’t come easy. It takes hard work, and discipline.

Vitya goes two days without a successful jump. Yakov yells, Vitya whispers promises to try harder, and they go home to a store-bought dinner.

The next day, Vitya is late to practice for the first time in years. Yakov, standing on the ice already, is prepared to yell at him to start running drills, but thinks better of it when the boy lifts one hand to his face, then another, rubbing at his eyes with his palms vigorously. After a few minutes, he seems satisfied, but when he looks out at the ice, hands on the boards and one blade already there, Yakov feels the pit of his stomach sink to the floor.

 _Dread._ There’s no other word to describe Vitya’s expression, and it’s in such stark contrast to the eagerness with which he’d once taken to the ice, Yakov feels himself the fool.

“Vitya,” he says, as gently as he can manage.

Skating slowly over, Vitya looks at him from behind a curtain of hair. Lost, lonely. Breaking. And Yakov knows he’s been so terribly wrong. He knows Vitya will never fully recover.

“Today’s a free day. Put on whatever music you like, do one of your dances. I have a headache.”

Vitya gives him a strange look, but picks one of his CDs to put in the player.

He doesn’t perform a routine start to finish, no, but he dances his way across the ice just the same. It’s slow, at first. Languid circles and compulsory figures, easy footwork here and there, but as he gets into the music, his smile grows. Soon enough, he’s flying across the ice, a sparkle in his eye and a long-forgotten smile on his face.

Yakov knows what he has to do, and he gets his old bones into a standing position, leaning against the boards. Vitya’s face falls when Yakov waves him over, but he comes immediately. Still compliant. Instead of being a relief, it twists something inside Yakov.

“Out of all of that you just did, what do you want to incorporate into your routines for Russian Nationals?”

The grin that lights up Vitya’s face is brighter than Yakov remembered it could be, and he knows he’s made the right decision.

“You should have known,” is all Lilia says to him that night, but Yakov understands.

 

 

Vitya takes to the ice to whispers behind hands at Russian Nationals, looking around nervously before giving himself a small smile as he takes his starting position.

When his program takes off, and his new routine is noticed, the gasps and cheers of the audience seem only to push him further, until he’s soaring, light on his blades as he lands every jump, glides through every choreographic sequence. Vitya is fiercely beautiful, a force to be reckoned with, and Lilia was right all along.

He hits his final pose to an uproar, elated screams echoing through the arena. He’s ecstatic and greets the audience with an enthusiastic flourish.

The sparkle in his eye has changed, the smile on his face more certain than ever before.

 

Viktor Nikiforov is reborn.

He takes gold.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick non-specific Viktor drabble (Yakov's pov, obvs.) brought on by a late-night convo with [@isis-nocturne1369](https://isisnocturne1369.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Enjoy!!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [ @we-call-everything-katsudon ](we-call-everything-katsudon.tumblr.com)


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